Running Man
by Garden Princex
Summary: (AU)Jean Kirschtein has had a traumatic past and finds his solace in running. He encounters a mute man that may save his life in more than one ways.
1. Prologue

Running is all I could do. It kept my thoughts away from me. Even at times I had to stop to breathe, my thoughts would slowly start to creep back up and before I knew it, I was running again. Through every alley, sidewalk and narrow street I turned to, no matter how many people. All I seen were colours passing me, vibrant and dull.

This is what kept my mind off of the accident. My spine quivered slightly at just the mention of the word. This is what kept my mind off of him, off of everything. Between everything that I juggled with on a daily basis, art and running are the only things that help me the most.

Running became my solace after the accident. I've been too afraid of cars and buses ever since. Doctors can't help me. No one can. At least my mind is clear now and-

"Oof!"

I fell to the ground, my mind and thoughts now on my sore ass and who the hell I bumped into.  
>Raking my fingers through my hair I had planned on giving the stranger on one the worst glares I could muster up.<p>

Plan. It's a cute word. You can plan to do something for whoever knows how long and in an instant, it can all be fucked up at the snap of the fingers.

I _had _planned the glare at the stranger.

I _had_ planned to cuss them out.  
>As soon as I looked up all of my 'plans' dissolved quicker than an ice cube in a cup of boiling water.<br>As soon as I looked at their face, everything stopped.  
>They smiled down at me, offering their hand to me.<br>Was this…..

My Marco?

* * *

><p>HEY! GUESS WHO FINALLY UPDATED BUT HAS TO WAIT TO DO BETTER STUFF BECAUSE THIS IS ON MY FAMILY COMPUTER?<br>THIS KID.  
>But hello everyone, it's so nice to be here again.<br>I haven't gotten my laptop yet but soon.  
>I did say I've been working on new stuff and this was something that popped up, but I kinda enjoy writing, even if it was only a little bit.<br>If you liked this (or didn't) please review this and tell me what you thought about it or could've improved on.  
>Also bless your face if you sneezed whilst reading this.<br>-x


	2. My Little Birds

So I decided that since I have officially have a laptop now, I will proceed to actually use it to write. So enjoy this and I really hope its hella longer than the little prologue, if that's what you wanna call it.  
>P.S – I was gonna use gender neutral pronouns for the 'Marco' but I fucked up but I'm still gonna kinda tell why I was going to but yeah. Sorry. Enjoy.<p>

**alrightalrightalright**

Jean stared at the person he ran into for what seemed like forever. His head shot up and he touched his face; he started crying again. He jumped to his feet, and wiped his eyes. _I must be daydreaming again because my Marco died years ago_. Wiping his eyes, he mentally shook the image of his sweet smiling Marco out of his head before looking back at the person.  
>Jean took a step back, surprisingly shell-shocked to find the same guy staring back at him in confusion. He man reached into his messenger bag, taking out a notepad and pen, scribbling something on it before showing it to Jean.<br>_"I'm sorry I uh, bumped into you, sir. I didn't think that I uh bumped into you hard enough to make you cry, but to each is their own I guess. I'm really sorry again."_  
>He then pulled out a card and scribble on it a little before giving it to Jean who was still in shock that he couldn't move to grab the card. He scribbled on the notepad, showing to Jean again.<br>_"Here's my card. If I hurt you too bad, just give me a call."_  
>Jeans eyes shot down to the card, tears brimming his eyes before looking back up at the stranger.<br>_"Just tell them you want to speak to Marco Bodt and I'll help you right away, I sorry again, but I really have to go. Good day sir."_  
>Than man tucked the card into Jeans jacket pocket before swiftly running off, cellphone in hand probably texting a friend to tell them about how he accidentally made a stranger cry.<br>Jean's hand started shaking and before he knew it, his entire body was shaking as well. He felt exhausted, drained, numb even. He slowly started limping home, but not without taking a small trip to the local liquor store first.

**alrightalrightalright**

Marco made it to his office just seconds before he would be considered late, huffing and puffing from jogging all the way from the Karanese/Trost Train Station to his job at the Karanese Therapeutic Center.  
>"Mr. Bodt, you have a 2 o'clock appointment with Mr. Jaeger right now and there's a Miss Ackerman on line one. She wants to reschedule her 4:45 appointment for next week."<br>He smiled down at his petite blonde assistant before taking the bulky clip board out of her hands and scribble on it and showed her.  
><em>"Thank you Krista, I got it from here. When you have time would you call Mr. Fubar and tell him he's late for another appointment, please?"<em> he asked, waiting for her to look up from the clipboard before setting it down on his desk.  
>She nodded, leaving Marco with 5 minutes to spare before his appointment with Jaeger.<p>

_This going to be one hell of a day._

**alrightalrightalright**

Jean staggered inside his apartment building, half a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand. When he got to his apartment door, he fished for his apartment keys in his jacket pocket, getting pissed by the second when he couldn't find them. "Jean, your door's unlocked!" a voice yelled from across the hall. "Yeah yeah thanks Sasha." He murmured before slipping into his apartment.

He took a swig of his bottle before sliding down his door, sitting on the ground.  
><em>This is so fucked up.<em>

He laughed loudly before taking a long swig before reaching inside of his jacket pocket only to pull out the card the weird stranger gave him.  
><em><strong>"Karanese Therapeutic Center. Not only do we do physical therapy, we are also trained in mental and social therapeutic treatment!"<strong>_  
>The number at the bottom was scribbled out with a note in rushed hand writing replacing it.<br>_**"Sorry about bumping into you again. If you need anything just call 5575565555. Sorry again."**_  
>"Fuck… Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. . FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK!"<p>

He flung his nearly empty bottle at the wall, shattering it and knocking a painting off the wall. He quivered into himself, lying in somewhat of a ball.  
><em>Why..<em>

_***flashback?***_

"_**Take care….of her Jean. She's our kleiner Vogel (*). Tell Faiga I love her. I love you…mein liebster(**)."**_  
><em><strong>*flashback end?*<strong>_

_Das ist richtig. Unsere kleiner Vogel.. Ich liebe dich meine Marco. Dada liebe dich Faiga und Izaak. Gute Nacht. (***)_  
>Jean drifted off to sleep, not knowing what awaited him in the morning.<br>**alrightalrightalright**

**A.N**  
>Alright so how'd yall like that. I actually enjoyed writing this even though I procrastinated hell. I'm sorry. But uh yeah. Next chapter should be up next Friday or Saturday and it'll be nice and sad and very cute hopefully.<br>(*) She's our little bird.  
>(**)I love you…my dearest.<br>(***) That's right. Our little bird.. I love you my Marco. Dada loves you Faiga and Izaak. Good Night.  
>P.S.S I'm only in second year German so if any of this isn't right please tell me so I can change it. Thanks. Bless your face if you sneezed whilst reading this.<p> 


End file.
